Chapter 24 #2
“I wasn’t humoring you,” I say, picking up where we’d left off.
He glances away from the window to meet my eyes. They flash dark in the dimly lit cabin.
I go on. “All I’ve been doing the last month is studying the constitution and the federalist papers. You like the constitution at least, right?”
“What I know about it,” he says.
“I feel like you should trust me not to do anything that would disappoint you.”
“I didn’t vote for you, Graham.”
“I figured. Did you at least vote?”
“Yes.”
“Good. Either way—I’m representing all of New York, not just the people who voted for me.”
“I don’t wanna talk about this,” he says with a note of warning in his voice.
I sigh. “Fine. Can we reset, then? I feel like we’ve gone back a few steps.”
His glare levels me. “Is that what this is about?” He waves his arm at the tight space.
“Yes,” I admit.
He takes another slow look around. “It’s cool.”
“I’m glad you think so.”
“A little risky, but I don’t mind if you don’t.”
I shrug. In terms of risk, it’s a calculated one.
It’s the middle of the night, and most people will be sleeping.
He and I may even be sleeping if I fail at turning his mood around.
There are two single beds in here—no reason to suspect we shared too much space if we end up getting closer than this.
“I know this thing with Avery is bothering you,” I say.
“It’s bothering you, too. Don’t think I haven’t noticed. Your Catholic guilt is showing.”
I wince. “Maybe. But I’d rather deal with that than have you barely speaking to me.”
“Eventually, you’re gonna have to make a choice.”
It’s not that I disagree, but I’d prefer to live in denial a little longer.
Who knows what could change if I actually do manage to get Avery pregnant.
Silas could drop me like a bad habit. My own guilt might choke me, and I might do the same to him.
But the more time I spend with him, the harder it is to remember how I lived without him for so long.
I’m getting attached. “You don’t trust me,” I say.
“It’s not exactly that.”
“Then is it the fact that this relationship is going nowhere fast?”
“We’re calling it a relationship now?”
“What would you call it?” I ask.
“An affair?”
“Technically, I guess, but I don’t see it like that.”
Silas gives me a look that implies I need to elaborate.
“If anything, I feel like I’m cheating on you when I’m with her.”
“I gathered that when you called on Thanksgiving.”
“What do you need me to say, Silas?” I ask, desperate to fix whatever this is.
He opens his mouth to speak but is interrupted by a knock on the door. I get up to deal with the attendant who checks our tickets, offers to bring us coffee, and asks if we need anything else.
I politely decline, telling him we’re just settling down to sleep.
“Call if you need anything, sir.”
“Thank you.” I give him a twenty and send him on his way, locking the door behind him.
As I turn to face Silas, the train moves. It unsteadies me, and I grab onto the wall to avoid tumbling on top of him. He grabs me by the belt buckle and tugs me toward him. I wind up next to him on the bench seat. He faces me, his legs crossed my way.
“I’m not trying to end this,” he says.
I keep my expression mild, but my heart is pounding. The scent of him is an aphrodisiac so potent, one whiff and I’m stiffening in my pants.
“It’s more like I need to be sure you’re in it.”
“So, it is about trust?”
“In a way. Maybe. How often do you think about me?”
Constantly. “All the time,” I tell him.
“Like all day every day? Because that’s how often I’m thinking about you.”
“Yes,” I whisper.
“Even when you’re inside her?”
Especially then. “I haven’t touched her since Thanksgiving.”
“She hasn’t tried anything?”
“She…I mean…she tries.”
“And what do you do?”
“I try and gently remind her that wasn’t part of the deal.”
“And how does she take that?”
This is where the guilt comes screaming in. “Sometimes better than others.”
“Are you sure there’s no part of you that wants her that way?”
“What does this mean to you?” I ask instead of answering.
“I just wonder if maybe she should know about us,” he says.
“Are we an us?”
His hand slides along my jaw and he drops his forehead against mine. “Fuck, I don’t know. But if we were, would you be willing to tell her?”
I haven’t ever thought about it. A month ago, I might have thought she would understand and be okay with it. Now I’m less certain. A lot less. I decide to go with the truth. “I don’t think she’d be okay with it.”
His fingertips press into the back of my neck as he drags in a long breath. “Oh.”
“There’s no part of me that wants her that way,” I say, answering his earlier question.
“Because you want me?”
“So much,” I whisper.
Silas kisses me, and it steals all the air from my chest. “I’m fucking crazy about you,” he says before moving to straddle my lap. He grabs my face, and kisses me again.
I’m instantly lost in him. Wrapped around me, his kiss consumes me, and I surrender to it.
With my hands on his ass, I rock my hips up to feel his cock against mine.
He leans back, takes one of my hands, and runs it up his chest. My palm passes over a firm ridge beneath his shirt, between his pecs, and then another. I frown.
“What is this?”
“Unwrap me and find out.”
My eyes widen as I meet his. “Is this an early Christmas present?”
“Something like that.”
Silas loosens his tie while I untuck and unbutton his shirt to reveal a brown leather harness.
The straps over his shoulders form a V joined to a metal ring where two other straps form a boundary for the lower side of his pecs, displaying them in a way that makes his muscles look like mounds.
His nipples are erect, begging for my mouth.
I oblige them, wrapping my mouth around one and sucking it greedily.
He runs his fingers through my hair and groans.
I don’t know what I’m supposed to do with the harness, but it looks so hot on him, I don’t care. “Is there more?”
“Keep going and find out.”
I need to suck his other nipple first, though, my hand moving firmly over the one I abandoned.
His back arches, giving his chest to me, and he pants softly.
I flick my tongue over the erect tip and glance up to find his head thrown back, his lips parted.
He looks like a god. All-powerful and pure hedonist.
I suck until I’m sure I’ve left a mark and return to the other side to do the same.
“Fuck,” he whimpers. “You like it?”
“I never want you to take it off.”
He strips off his shirt and unbuckles his belt.
I help him with his fly, and his hips rise.
When I yank his pants down as far as they’ll go, I see the rest. They’re not panties—I’m not sure how I’d have felt about that—but they’re not normal briefs either.
Black cloth covers his cock, and mesh on the sides exposes his hips.
It’s a skimpy pair of underwear designed for a man strapped to leather that encircles his muscular thighs. “Jesus Christ.”
“Do you still like it?”
“Fuck yes. Jesus, Silas, I need you.”
He kisses me as we get rid of my shirt and tie, pulling at them in frenzied tugs.
Our mouths crash repeatedly together, our tongues lashing and stroking.
We both stand to get rid of our pants, and I take note of our surroundings.
There’s an overhead luggage shelf in the corner I can definitely use. “Grab that.” I nod toward it.
He turns, and I see the real prize. The mesh doesn’t go all the way around. It’s a jock, exposing his gorgeous, bare ass, made even more amazing by the straps beneath it, plumping it up in a way that would tempt any man, gay or straight. I palm it with both hands. “Your body, Silas…”
“Use it,” he says. “Fuck it. I fucking need you inside me.”
I will. I need that, too. But first, I drop to my knees.